


Canned Coffee and Pencil Lead

by secrettemplars (tricycleamoving)



Series: walking, not falling [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Agender Akashi, Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Artist Furihata, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Furihata, Other, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricycleamoving/pseuds/secrettemplars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Four boxes of potato chips, stacked one behind another, neatly in a row to the beat of a 4/4 time signature.</i> </p><p>Written for the akafuri drabble weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canned Coffee and Pencil Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Coincidentally finished on a Sunday, so I guess it's part of the akafuri drabble weekend? 
> 
> Standard characterisation for me applies: genderqueer Furihata (he/him) and agender Akashi (they/them). 
> 
> This was totally inspired by JJ Lin's song '[She Says](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUWeEGvWExg)', and the plot is directly lifted out from the mv so to any Singaporean or Taiwanese readers out there who remembers this mv, congrats you know what's gonna happen already. 
> 
> Also partially written to Owl City's '[The Saltwater Room](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMp3TIVYwwk)' (gosh, we're really getting out the old songs today). 
> 
> More notes after the fic!

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Four boxes of potato chips, stacked one behind another, neatly in a row to the beat of a 4/4 time signature.

Akashi Seijuurou dusts their hands off on their uniform, humming a newly formed tune under their breath. Taking a quick break, they glance at the clock and sigh to themself, rubbing at their eyes. Night shifts are tough, and what makes it even worse is the fact that barely anyone comes into the convenience store during their shift, living in a neighbourhood that practically goes to bed at ten, so their job really only involves restocking and finding ways to occupy themself until time’s up and they have to trudge back to their tiny apartment and sleep the day away again.

It’s not a great way to live, but they’ll take what they can get -- anything is better than what they had before.

Looking down at the large cardboard box of potato chips currently resting at their feet, they rub at their eyes again before reaching down for another four small boxes, stacking them onto the shelf. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four - _bzzt_.

_From: Midorima Shintarou_

_He wants you to come home, Akashi._

Sighing in frustration, they tap out a quick reply before shoving their phone back into their pocket. The very fact that Midorima still bothered to keep in touch with them spoke volumes, but his meddling in their family affairs was… unwanted.

_To: Midorima Shintarou_

_I am not his son. I will never be his son. He needs to understand that._

The potato chips are stacked onto the shelf with more vehemence now, and they steadfastly ignore the buzzing of their phone, opting to cram as many boxes of potato chips onto the shelf and the one below as they can.

_From: Midorima Shintarou [UNREAD]_

_You know he will never understand._

 

_From: Midorima Shintarou [UNREAD]_

_For what it’s worth, Takao and I will be here for you if you ever need anything._

Running a hand through their hair, Akashi huffs as they manage to cram the very last box of potato chips in the box onto the shelf. They lean down to pick up the empty cardboard box, before quickly ducking into the storage and dumping the box there. The feel of cardboard scraping across their nails might not be pleasant, but even they would take that over having to see their father again.

If Akashi had their way, they would never see the old man for the rest of their life.

It’s then that the automatic doors swish open, that vaguely catchy but mostly annoying chime ringing as a brown-haired blur rushes into the store and heads straight for the canned coffee section. Honestly, it takes Akashi by such surprise that they don’t process the new customer’s sudden arrival for a few seconds until he’s at the counter, waiting impatiently, and they almost trip over their own shoelaces to rush over to the cash register.

“Welcome to FamilyMart,” Akashi says hastily, scanning the barcodes of what seems to be approximately a week’s worth of canned coffee and… pencil lead? “That’ll be thirty five dollars, would you like a bag?”

“I have my own bag,” the customer says, handing over a debit card as he shoves the coffee and pencil lead into his own cloth bag (that had a pretty unique hand-drawn design on it, Akashi had to say), “Thanks.”

Judging from the dark circles under the customer’s eyes and the twenty different notebooks and sketchbooks he was currently juggling along with his cloth bag full of coffee and pencil lead, Akashi could safely assume that they were dealing with a caffeine-deprived artist and worked to swipe his card as fast as possible (and they knew from experience that one should never, ever attempt to irritate such a person). Once the entire process was done, they handed the card back and watched as the artist shout out a garbled “thanks” and bounded out of the convenience store, vanishing back into the darkness of the night.

“Wait,” Akashi says as that annoying chime rang throughout the store once again, “You forgot your-”

The automatic doors swished close, and they were left alone in the store again.

“- sketchbook,” Akashi finished, hand still outstretched as if it the customer was still there. The lone sketchbook sat at the counter, abandoned by its owner in its caffeine-crazed haste. Picking it up, they inspected the front and back cover, squinting at the small characters neatly scribbled on at the far right corner of the back: _Furihata Kouki_.

 _Well_ , thought Akashi as they placed the plain brown sketchbook behind the counter and stuck a sticky note explaining the situation on it, _this Furihata Kouki better come back soon to get his sketchbook. I can’t guarantee that the other staff won’t throw it away._

Lightly humming under their breath, they lean against the counter and tap their nails, one two three four, one two three four. Another glance at the clock tells them that they have an hour left, and they look around the store, seeking out something else to pass the time.

 _I suppose I could always restock the canned coffee and pencil lead_ , Akashi thinks, a wry smile forming on their lips. Taking one last look around the store (and searching for a brown-haired individual out there in the darkness), they huff and head back into the storage room.

If memory serves them right, the canned coffee should be somewhere at the back.

 

* * *

 

 _How did it go again?_ Akashi thinks, chewing on the tip of their pencil as they stare down at their notebook, _C, C, B, B… G? And then the C below and up to an A again, I think._

Quickly pencilling the notes in, they hum the notes under their breath, nodding to themselves when the half-formed tune they came up with last night starts to appear in the form of quavers and dotted notes. The night shift is as boring and listless as it normally is, but with their mind on music, passing the time isn’t half as bad.

 _Repeat that bar again_ , they think, scribbling in a half-assed rest note (because really, no one likes to draw those properly), _And then maybe have it go up to a D?_

The chime of the door swishing open jars them out of their musical reverie, and they quickly close the notebook and shove it behind the counter, standing up straight. Their first instinct is to call out the usual contractually-obligated “welcome to FamilyMart”, but a glance at the person who walks in makes them hold their tongue.

Furihata Kouki. The owner of the sketchbook.

“Oh, you again,” Akashi says after a short period of silence.

“Uhm, yes?” Furihata replies, scratching at the back of his head, “I was here yesterday, and I left, er-”

“A sketchbook?” Akashi says, taking the sketchbook out from behind the counter, sans the sticky note they placed on there yesterday (none of the other staff moved it, thank goodness, though whether they looked in the sketchbook or not was another thing), and holding it out to him.

“Oh thank god it’s safe,” Furihata breathes out, before rushing forward to take it from their hands.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t open it,” Akashi remarks as Furihata hugs the sketchbook to his chest, “I learnt my lesson the last time.”

“The last time?” Furihata repeats, before gasping softly, “Oh, sorry, I don’t mean to pry or anything. You totally don’t have to answer me.”

“I don’t mind,” Akashi replies, before shooting him a wry smile, “Plus, I don’t exactly work at the busiest of hours anyway.”

Furihata blinks and takes a moment to look around the store, giggling a little when he finds it to be absolutely empty. Their smile only widens at that response.

“I had an artist friend back when I was in university,” Akashi says, after clearing their throat, “That’s how I deduced you were an artist, by the way, you had the same caffeine-deprived look in your eyes last night. Anyway, he would never show me his art -- I really only knew he was an artist because he was always drawing in his sketchbook. So one day, he left his sketchbook behind and I decided to take a quick peek before returning it to him... “

“And?” Furihata asks, eyes wide, sketchbook still clutched to his chest, “What was in the sketchbook?”

“Er, well,” Akashi replies, “It was porn. Lots and lots of porn.”

“Oh,” Furihata squeaks out, cheeks turning as pink as the strawberry kit kat packaging on display near the counter, “Was it good porn, at least?”

“Most of it looked anatomically improbable,” Akashi replies, blinking at the artist’s question, “Though I suppose there’s a certain appeal to that. Either way, I never looked into a sketchbook without permission ever again.”

“You’d be happy to hear that my art isn’t like that…” Furihata says, before quickly glancing down at their nametag, “... Akashi-san. So if you took a peek you wouldn’t be horribly scarred, at least.”

“Am I allowed to then?” Akashi asks, gesturing at the sketchbook.

“Eh?” Furihata replies, pausing for a minute at the question before quickly answering, cheeks starting to pinken again, “Ah, of course! Sorry, people don’t usually ask to see my art…”

Taking a few steps forward to the counter, Furihata places the sketchbook down on the glass surface and flips open to the first page. The sketches within were rough in nature, with very little having smooth lineart. Still, they thought that there was a certain kind of beauty in such roughness, something a bit more raw and wild than one would expect from such a meek looking person. Akashi never thought of themself as an especially avid art connoisseur or anything like that (they were more of the music sort), but even they had to admit that these sketches were impressive.

“Don’t mind the messiness,” Furihata says, flitting around them as they turn the page, “It’s not super pretty to look at but --”

“On the contrary, I quite like the messiness,” Akashi replies, carefully looking at the next page of sketches (a hand curled against a couch, a half-formed face looking away, wisps of steam escaping from a lumpy handmade mug), “I think it adds a sort of… raw appeal, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Thanks,” Furihata blurts out, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, “I mean, um, no one’s really said that before so I really appreciate it!”

“Then I hope people start saying that to you more,” Akashi says, flipping the page again, “Because these are genuinely really good. Have you thought about entering contests or anything like that?”

“I make most of my living off commissions and stuff like that, but I’ve sent my stuff to a few magazines,” Furihata replies, "It’s been tough, though. Most people aren’t interested in such rough drawings… but maybe one day they will be.”

Furihata walks over to the magazine stand, rifling through the different magazines until picking out one of them in particular before marching back to the counter.

“ _This_ is the one I’m aiming for,” Furihata says, eyes sparkling as he places it down on the counter for Akashi to look at, “I’ve been following it for a while and it definitely has the sort of audience I’m looking for! They’re always on the lookout for more artists, so the chances of me getting in are high too. You’ll see, my works will be on the cover of this magazine one day.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Akashi replies, smiling in amusement at the artist’s enthusiasm, “Though if you want to buy that magazine, that’ll be 480 yen.”

“… Maybe next time,” Furihata says, hopping back to the magazine stand with the magazine in tow before returning to the counter, “I’ll buy a copy once I feature in it.”

“See that you do,” Akashi says, gesturing at the empty convenience store, “I need _some_ sort of business every once in a while.”

“Huh, now that you mention it,” Furihata remarks, looking around again, “It really _is_ quiet here. I can’t be your only customer, right?”

“You’re the only one so far,” Akashi replies, “Though I suppose I sold a whole week’s worth of canned coffee and pencil lead to you, so that should even out the lack of anything happening here.”

“An artist’s gotta do what an artist’s gotta do,” Furihata giggles out, before looking around again, “Hey, you don’t mind if I come here more often to draw and stuff, right? It’s getting a bit stifling just cooped up in my room all night, and it’s pretty nice here.”

“Go ahead,” Akashi says, “It’ll be nice to have someone else around from time to time.”

Furihata smiles, and Akashi can feel a responding smile bloom on their face. Perhaps the night shift won’t be so boring from now on.

 

* * *

 

“I thought artists were supposed to draw, not text.”

“ _This_ artist has been drawing for the past hour, so he deserves a short break.”

“Furihata, I don’t exactly think half an hour constitutes a ‘break’.”

“Well, my boyfriend decided to start a serious philosophical conversation about Freud or something, so I’m currently in the middle of that.”

“First of all, I don’t think your boyfriend should trust someone who thinks that literally everyone has an Oedipus complex-”

“That’s not-”

“Secondly, why does your boyfriend talk to you about Freud at two in the morning when you’re not a philosophy major?”

“That… is a very good question.”

“Of all the boyfriends you could have, you chose the weird, pretentious one.”

“Hey! What if I _like_ weird and pretentious?”

“…”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

 

* * *

 

“Woah, woah, you have a degree in business?”

“Yes, is that really surprising?”

“No! I mean, you look the type but…”

“But?”

“But… why are you working _here_ , then? You could be doing anything else: starting a business, working in a bank- I’m sorry, it’s really not my place to pry.”

“... It’s fine. I have my reasons for being here.”

“That’s totally alright, we all have our little secrets, after all! And I mean, if you weren’t here, then we wouldn’t have met, I might have never gotten my sketchbook back, and then where would we be?”

“Probably not sitting in a FamilyMart at two in the morning listening to you complain about a commissioner?”

“Hey, if you get to complain about your manager, I get to complain about my commissions.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“… But seriously, if you ever want or need to talk to someone about stuff, like, _serious_ stuff, I’m always available, alright?”

“I’ll… keep that in mind. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“Akashi, I have a problem.”

“Is this the sort of problem that requires me to do something, because I’m technically still at work.”

“Akashi- Akashi _listen to me_ , this is a matter of grave importance.”

“Alright, alright, what is it?”

“Akashi, _my cat doesn’t like my boyfriend_.”

“Considering the fact that you once told me that your cat tried to maul the vet, that really doesn’t surprise me.”

“That was one time. And the keyword is ‘tried’. She didn’t succeed.”

“The keyword is ‘mauled’, meaning that someone almost got mauled.”

“ _Anyway_ , what am I supposed to do? My boyfriend can’t even visit me anymore without Akashi junior trying to tear him to pieces!”

“Wait, you-”

“And I don’t know what to do because it’s not like I can just dump the cat, that’s just inhumane, but I kinda want my boyfriend to be able to be near me.”

“ _What did you name the cat?_ ”

“Uhh… Akashi… junior…?”

“I can’t believe you named your cat, the one who _almost mauled someone_ , after me.”

“Well I think it’s a great honour to have such a majestic cat named after you.”

“Not when the cat in question tries to maul people.”

“That was _one time_ , Akashi, one time!”

“That’s still one time too many.”

“Hey, it’s not like I _intended_ to name her that. Once you see her in person, you’ll totally understand why I _had_ to name her after you.”

“I don’t know if I should- what if she tries to attack me?”

“She’s not going to. Akashi junior is a very lovable and beautiful cat that is just… a little bit misunderstood. That’s all.”

“Except for the part where she tries to maul people.”

“That was once! _Anyway_ , what am I supposed to do about this?”

“Why can’t you just go over to his place? Don’t you already do that on a regular basis.”

“Oh, er, wow it’s amazing how that never even crossed my mind. That’s… kinda embarrassing.”

“I think you should be more concerned about the fact that you named your demon cat after me. Furihata, do you think I’m capable of mauling someone?”

“Can we _please_ drop this already?”

 

* * *

 

“Akashi, this might sound _really weird_ , but I kinda need you to flex. Right now.”

“Er… _why_?”

“I need a reference, you’re kinda built, please flex your arm for me.”

“... Like this?”

“Hm, no, I need the arm to be a bit more- wait hold on let me just move your arm a bit if that’s okay- yeah, kinda like this. Flex, please.”

“Do I get paid for doing this, or do I just get paid in  _experience_ in modelling for sleep deprived artists?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

 

* * *

 

“So that’s why I ended up hiding in the-”

“I’m here because of my father.”

“-bushes. Eh?”

“Before, you asked me why I was here. I’m here because of my father.”

“Oh.”

“My father doesn’t… understand who I am. Or what I want. So I left.”

“Left? Like taking-a-break left or run-away left?”

“The latter.”

“Does he know where you are?”

“He does. Akashi Seijuurou _is_ my real name, after all. He just knows that he can’t force me to return.”

“So… are you just going to work here for the rest of your life, then?”

“I don’t know. It feels weird to say it, but for the first time in my life, I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t really know what I’m doing with my life either, so we can not know together, then.”

“You make it sound almost pleasant- not knowing, that is.”

“Hey, you can’t possibly know _everything_ that’s going to happen in life. There’s some fun in the unexpected too.”

“Like?”

“Like… well… I never planned on you being in my life, but it happened anyway. I’m glad it happened.”

“... Furihata?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you happened, too.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, that’s a pretty tune.”

“Hm?”

“What you were just humming. It sounded really nice.”

“Oh, that. It’s a side project I’ve been working on.”

“Side project? You’re writing a song?”

“It’s turning out that way. I haven’t been spending all my time on it, but I’ve been getting bits and pieces of inspiration here and there.”

“Ooh, can you sing some of it for me then?”

“No, it’s still incomplete. I’ll show it to you when it’s done.”

“Alright, alright, it better be an amazing song then, if I have to wait that long.”

“More importantly, don’t you have a deadline to reach?”

“I told you not to remind me of that.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you ever think of going back?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. I like you being here, as mushy as it sounds.”

“I like being here too.”

 

* * *

 

 _And it’s finally done_ , Akashi thinks, dusting off the eraser dust from their notebook, _I’ll still need to make a few final tweaks, but… it’s done._

 _Should I tell Furihata the moment he gets here, or should I wait until the very end?_ Sure, it would be great to see the smile on his face when they finally revealed the song, but there was some sort of gratification too in waiting until everything in the composition was perfect to reveal it. Plus, Furihata would probably get mock-mad at them for holding off the reveal, which (in their opinion) made it even better.

Glancing at the clock, they purse their lips. Furihata would usually arrive at the convenience store by now, and they never got a text saying that he wouldn’t be coming, so his unexplained absence was being a bit of a bother. Being five minutes late shouldn’t be such a big deal, but for some reason, it still unnerved them slightly. Even though he was a pretty messy artist, Furihata was never late for their shift.

Tapping their pencil against the glass counter, they hum again. Maybe if they scan through their composition again, enough time will pass and they wouldn’t be stuck here just… waiting.

One, two, three, four.

It’s ridiculous how much more monotonous the night shift is without Furihata. Just countless hours of restocking and standing around and more restocking… There’s an occasional text every now and then from Midorima (not always about their Father, which is reassuring), but the silence in comparison is still overwhelming. The ticking of the clock grows louder, becoming almost deafening.

 _You’re just being melodramatic_ , they think while huffing, _It’s only been seven minutes. Maybe the demon cat was being tricky, or his boyfriend started another pretentious discussion. He’ll arrive any minute now._

Standing up, Akashi takes a moment to stretch, wincing at the resulting ache in their muscles. Perhaps if they walk around the store, time will pass faster…

The doors open then, a brown-haired blur dashing into the store with the familiar FamilyMart jingle playing in his wake. Akashi barely has time to process Furihata’s sudden arrival, much less ask him about his lateness, before a magazine cover is shoved into their face, the glossy surface rubbing against their cheek.

“I made it!” Furihata yells, bouncing up and down, “Akashi, I made it into the magazine! Look, look, there’s my art!”

“Oh, uh, congratulations,” Akashi says, blinking as they pull back from the magazine, plucking it from Furihata’s hands to take a closer look, “I _told_ you that you’d make it on here some day.”

“I know, isn’t it just amazing!” Furihata replies, eyes sparkling, and the next thing they register is a warm body wrapped against theirs, foreign arms wrapped around their neck and foreign heat seeping into their bones, “ _Oh_ my god, all my work finally paid off! This could be it, Akashi, this could be my big break!”

(They have never felt so warm in their life.)

“I’m glad,” Akashi says, a smile blooming on their lips as they huff, their own hands tentatively moving to rest on Furihata’s back, “You deserve it.”

“It all feels like a dream,” Furihata whispers, burying his head into their shoulder, “I’m afraid I’ll wake up any minute.”

“This feels pretty real to me, Furihata,” Akashi replies, patting Furihata’s back in the least awkward way possible (and if their fingers linger for a bit too long, that was nobody’s issue but theirs), “I’m happy for you.”

It’s… pleasant, being held like this. Would it be improper of them to lean into the hug a bit more? They’ve never- they don’t really know the protocol for this sort of thing. Affection was a rare thing for them to see, much less experience: How long was the hug supposed to last? Was it a bad thing for them to want it to last forever?

“Oh gosh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell him, I rushed here the moment I found out,” Furihata suddenly says, jerking back with his phone already in his hand, “I’m gonna call my boyfriend for a sec, alright!”

“Sure,” Akashi replies, blinking as they watch the artist skip to the chairs, frantically dialling a number on their phone. Their body feels slightly colder, their fingertips faintly chilly, and it bothers them for some reason.

Taking one last glance at the artist, they turn back to the magazine stand and pluck the same magazine out, inspecting the cover. Furihata managed to get a pretty prominent spot on the cover, taking up a big section on the side: It seemed that the magazine staff were pretty impressed with his work. The featured art is as rough and messy as usual, and they recognize bits and pieces of it, parts of the original sketch Furihata worked on while in this very convenience store (even thinking about it causes a small smile to bloom on their face).

Reluctantly putting the magazine back on the stand (and making a mental note to buy it later, after their shift was done), they look over at Furihata, wondering whether it would be a good idea to approach him or not. They’d never met the aforementioned boyfriend in person before, but perhaps it would be a good idea to give him some privacy?

 _Afterwards_ , Akashi tells themself, _After he’s done calling his boyfriend, I’ll tell him about the composition, we’ll celebrate everything together._

“He’s not replying to my texts,” Furihata huffs, eyebrows scrunched and back hunched, “I don’t get it, he’s usually up at this hour…”

“He might have fallen asleep?” Akashi replies, stepping towards Furihata.

“There’s no way, he’s always up… plus he was texting me before I got the call,” Furihata says, sighing, “I wonder if anything happened.”

“He only lives nearby, right?” Akashi asks, sliding into the chair next to Furihata, “Why don’t you go visit him then? If he’s still awake, he’ll be there.”

“Huh, that’s a pretty good idea,” Furihata says, immediately brightening up, “I’ll go right now! Ah, you don’t mind, right? I mean, I really want to break the good news to him…”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Akashi replies, their smile not coming to their face as naturally as they thought it would, “You’re always here at this time anyway, I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much!” Furihata exclaims, straightening his back as he bounds out of the chair, “I’ll come back right after, alright. We still have to celebrate!”

“Of course,” Akashi says, the smile feeling a little more at home now, “We’ll break out the canned coffee and pencil lead. …Hopefully not all thirty five dollars of it though.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe you still remember the exact cost of my first order here,” Furihata huffs, playfully poking them in the shoulder, “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

“I’ll see you-” Akashi says, watching as Furihata slips out the store and into the darkness outside, the annoying FamilyMart jingle playing in the background, “-later.”

Frankly, Akashi doesn’t think Furihata will come back (which makes sense: he’ll be at his boyfriend’s place, why _would_ he come back?). It’s to be expected, after all. The canned coffee would just have to wait.

Brushing a hand through their hair, they turn and walk back to the counter. Was it possible for them to turn down the air conditioning?

They still felt a little cold.

 

* * *

 

They’re in the storage room when they hear the FamilyMart jingle and the sound of automatic doors sliding open.

 _Huh, he’s back early_ , Akashi thinks, _He only left twenty minutes ago… I hope he’s not too drenched, it’s raining pretty hard outside._

Stepping out of the room, they dust their hands off on their uniform, quickly running a hand through their hair to neaten it up a bit. Maybe his boyfriend really _was_ asleep (unlikely)? Or he got lost (also unlikely)? Either way, he was here now, regardless of the reason why, so it was time to break out the canned coffee, maybe throw in a few pencil lead containers just to tease him even further (and possibly a towel, if he got caught in the rain outside).

All thoughts of celebration evaporate from Akashi’s mind, however, the moment they spot Furihata sitting back in his chair, drenched from the rain. He cut a lonely figure, back hunched and shoulders quivering, sitting there in complete silence. If it weren’t for the mandatory little jingle, they’d never have guessed that he’d returned in the first place.

It’s the first sniffle that jostles them out of their thoughts and gets them moving. Grabbing the can of coffee they’d placed on the counter earlier (and a whole bunch of napkins from the snack counter), they move swiftly towards the chairs, sliding into the chair next to Furihata’s. The canned coffee is silently put on the table in front of them, the napkins neatly folded beside it.

“Hey,” Akashi says.

“Hey,” Furihata replies, quiet and withdrawn.

“I guess things didn’t go to plan,” Akashi says, looking straight out the window in front of them.

“No,” Furihata says, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips, “It really didn’t.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” they ask, sneaking a glance sideways at the artist.

“… Not really,” Furihata replies, a hand reaching out for a napkin, pressing it to his red eyes, “Sorry if that sounds… rude, I just- oh god, I can’t-”

“It’s fine,” Akashi says, gently waving it off, “I understand.”

The two of them lapse into silence, Akashi staring back out into the darkness outside while Furihata weeps into convenience store napkins, doing his best to muffle his crying. They feel the need to do _something_ , be it a hug or some other source of comfort, and they let their gaze sweep across the room, trying to find a solution.

Sliding out of their chair, they softly pad into the backroom, rummaging through their bag. They return to the chairs in a matter of seconds, where Furihata’s back still remains hunched, as if all the weight in the world rested on it. Silently, they place their grey jacket over Furihata’s shoulders, before sitting back down in their usual place.

“There’s also a Hello Kitty towel in the store, if you want that,” Akashi says, “Though it’s not very aesthetically pleasing, in my opinion.”

“This is enough,” Furihata replies, a small smile emerging beneath the tears and sniffles as he draws the jacket closer to his body, “Thank you, Akashi.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Akashi says.

They fall into silence again.

“Sometimes,” Akashi starts to say, breaking the silence, “Sometimes there are people in our lives who we love who don’t love us back in the way they should. Maybe they’re a horrible person, maybe they’re just… not the right person for us. Either way, we love them, but it doesn’t make the things they do to us any better.”

Furihata says nothing, but his head is tilted towards them, eyes shining with some unknown emotion, so they continue.

“And sometimes,” they continue, looking back at Furihata, “It’s best for us to just… leave. It hurts, but it hurts the way ripping a bandaid hurts: immediate and temporary. It hurts less the more you’re apart, and hopefully, one day, it won’t hurt anymore. Until then… you’ll just have to bear with it, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice way to live,” Furihata says softly, looking down at his lap, “All that hurt in one person.”

“It’s not a nice way to live, but it’s better,” Akashi says, “Maybe even better than what one might have had before.”

“You’d have to give up a lot of things, though,” Furihata replies, “Things that you love.”

“But you gain even more afterwards,” Akashi says, “new things and new… people that become precious to you. It’s worth it, I think.”

“It sure sounds like it,” Furihata says, smiling softly as he tugs the jacket closer, “Even if it hurts at first.”

“Even if it hurts at first,” Akashi repeats, smiling back at him.

Furihata reaches out for the can of coffee.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, I forgot to tell you this earlier, but I finished the song.”

“Woah, no way! Hey, this means that you get to sing it for me, right?”

“Yeah, let me just go grab my notebook…”

“I can’t wait- I’ve never heard you sing before.”

“It works better with the piano, but I can’t exactly bring a baby grand in here.”

“That’s alright, I think your voice will do just fine. Oh, does the song have a name, by the way?”

“Ah, about that.”

“Yeah?”

“I was actually hoping that… you’d be the one to name it?”

“Oh my god, it would be my _honour_ to name it. You’re not afraid that I’ll give it some tacky name, or name it after my cat?”

“No, I trust you.”

“… I trust you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another shameless plug before I do my usual notes, but I have [writing commissions](http://genderqueerfuri.tumblr.com/post/118699841037/writing-commissions) open right now, so if you want... [shrugs]
> 
> look at me trying to sound all calm and collected about commissions hah
> 
> Notes:
> 
> 1\. Can you tell how much I don't like Akashi's dad? I really don't like Akashi's dad
> 
> 2\. Akashi's "artist friend" is definitely Mayuzumi by the way. I had more fun with this than I really should've tbh
> 
> 3\. What time does Akashi work on their night shift???? I don't know lmao just... at night. Some time at night. Also, idk if the FamilyMart uniform in Japan is different from the ones here in Taiwan, but just try to imagine Akashi in the uniform in the JJ Lin mv... oh my god
> 
> 4\. Tsk tsk, Furihata, you should really listen to your cat (and also your heart, but like, the cat is slightly more important). 
> 
> 5\. Shoutout to my artist best friend because all this artist stuff is based off my interactions with her and also my much shorter experience as an artist hah (also because I AM APPARENTLY A WALKING ADVERTISEMENT, my best friend is also [open for commissions](http://lelelego.tumblr.com/post/105412682032/im-open-for-commissions-prices-are-in-usd) please go throw money at her talented face). 
> 
> 6\. Also, if you didn't watch the video, basically the gist of what happened is that the character Furi's based off leaves the convenience store and heads to her boyfriend's house, only to catch him cheating on her... Couldn't really write that scene in here without switching POV, so sorry for any confusion orz
> 
> 7\. The song that Akashi composed is basically 'She Says', the song the mv is for. 
> 
> 8\. Also, I'm thinking of writing a sidestory that takes place somewhere in the middle of this fic (so hah, it's still pre-slash), so please look out for that! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, please feel free to leave a kudos or comment if so inclined!


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